a step in the veggie direction

The web address of this blog suggests that it was supposed to not only be a chronicle of my growth over time, but also of committing myself to writing regularly - both things that before 2009, I hadn't been very steady at.  I grappled with the title(s) of this blog - what is in the address bar and the title bar -  because to be honest, I think titling a blog makes it even more self-important.  And you should know, I'm very aware that having a blog is self-important.

But there are times that I'm really glad I have this virtual space to write things on an open forum in which I give people the option to care.  Like the times when something really important comes along, and rather than going and blabbing about it to all of my friends, I can blab about it to my blog and not feel as self-important as I would in reality.  Because a blog is self-important, so it's more okay to blab about shit I care about that others may or may not care about.  So, I guess it just reduces my guilt of starring in "The Wes Show" 24/7.

2 weeks ago, I made a decision to stop eating animals.  To some, this might not be a BFD (big fuckin' deal).  To others, it might be a RBFD (really big fuckin' deal).  To even more others, it's probably NABFD (not a big fuckin' deal).  To me, I almost put it up there with when I came out of the closet.  That's how good I feel about it, that's how shell-shocked I am, that's how much I want to scream and star in a pride parade of some sort.  It's important to say - I don't feel good about it because it makes me better than animal-eaters, just as I don't think I'm better than closeted-homos.  I feel good about it because I feel like I'm doing the right thing.  I feel like my conscience is more in line with compassion and sensitivity, two qualities that I try to hold myself to.

One of my most favorite authors in the whole wide world, Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, one of my most favorite books in the whole wide world, has written a new book called Eating Animals.  I walked by it one day in a Barnes & Noble and judged it by its cover.  Its cover is pretty awesome:

When I noticed the author, I got very excited.  I would have bought it instantly, probably because I would follow Mr. Safran Foer to the ends of the earth just to hear the way he constructs sentences and ideas.  Unfortunately, I couldn't because I was really broke.  The venti Starbucks in my right hand helped me to realize why.

So, as with most things, I went home and put it into my Excel file of wish list items for birthdays and holidays.  (Yeah, I said it.)  And then I heard about Natalie Portman writing an op-ed championing the book and the author, and I think I probably had something close to an orgasm.  One of my favorite actresses, and someone who I have a shit-ton of respect for championing one of my favorite authors, and someone who I have a shit-ton of respect for?  This was gon' be good.

Christmas came along, and I was pleased to find in the fury of wrapping paper being ripped to shreds: the book.  After the excitement of Christmas morning died down and I had taken my 3 hour nap, I began reading the book.  And I didn't stop until I was finished.  I had to pick my jaw up off the floor around 5 times (each of which I bunny-eared the pages which caused this reaction).  In some instances, I was shocked at the reality of a situation I hadn't thought twice about, and other times, I was shocked at my unwillingness to ever consider this reality.

Instead, I had always dismissed, dismissed, dismissed.  I knew that "animals" are pumped with a disgusting amount of hormones and antibiotics that are making girls in the 3rd grade start menstruating and boys hit puberty in the crib.  I knew that "animals" were more than likely kept in really hideous conditions on farms.  I even knew, somewhere inside of me, that it was wrong to eat animals.  I just never thought about it.

What I didn't know is that these "animals" don't really seem like animals at all to me.  I use quotations for a reason, because I see the ones we eat more as freakish science experiments on how fast man can speed up nature's process to make an animal reach its prime for slaughtering.  What I didn't know was that factory farming is more of a contribution to global warming and ecological destruction than the United States' transportation emissions - in fact, it is the highest contributor.  What I didn't know was that I actually could stop eating animals.

Once I stopped knowing and actually thought about it, I had a few reactions:

1. I realized I had been making excuses.  And, when I finally challenged the validity of my rationalizations, and questioned them until I backed myself into a wall and realized I couldn't answer with any other justification, I knew I was wrong.
2. I was disappointed in myself.  Becoming vegetarian (which is a distinction I'll make below) was something I always, always admired in other people but for some reason (see: number 1) I never thought I could do.  Once I did, I felt like I had let an integral part of my nature - being sensitive - fall by the wayside for a long time.
3. I was eating animals.  Duh.  But really - we've become so accustomed to saying we eat "meat." Meat is just a clever form of doublespeak that is the much nicer way of saying what we're really eating, which is the carcasses and body parts of animals.  To show you how awesome doublespeak really is, it's a key factor in why I try more often to say "I don't eat animals" or "I don't eat meat," rather than "I'm a vegetarian."  Because it seems as though, in some instances, "vegetarian" has a stigma, one of which I want to avoid because it oversimplifies what I really am doing, even though they mean the same exact thing. Crosseyed yet?
4. I wanted to tell everyone I know.  

But I didn't.  This blog is the first time I've explained my decision and also the closest I've come to appealing to others to do the same.  I now realize how seriously our culture takes eating animals, and how personal it is to some people.  I saw it in the disappointment in my father's face when the first family meal I had and I declined meat, saying I wasn't interested in eating it anymore.  And then the next morning, when he childishly offered me bacon and I had to say "I don't appreciate that."

It's almost like I was denying him.  I was like "hold up, doesn't that mean there's just more bacon for you?  Why you trippin', Pops!?"  (I'm "urban" with my family.)  He just became deflated.  My mom, who in earlier years would have reacted similarly, seems to have more of an acceptance for differences now - maybe even a quiet appreciation.  What I soon began to realize is that when you admit to being vegetarian, or not eating animals, people can get very defensive.  They instantly, and perhaps thanks to the aggressiveness of PETA, get their claws out like they're ready to fight and defend their right to eat animals as if it were a debate about gun control.  I loves my gun. Loveess my gun.

I don't even know if I have to make this connection for you, but I will anyway: Why is the need to defend so strong?  Is there a chance that there is perhaps, the slightest, smallest indication that we're doing something we shouldn't be doing, so we pull out all our best arguments to get them off our back?

First of all, I will never be that vegetarian.  As I said, this blog will be as close as I come to making appeals to people.  I have maintained for quite some time now that people should be able to live with the utmost freedom to make the choices they want to make, and in a resounding majority of cases, those decisions do not affect me.  The ones that do, you can expect there to be something said.  Your animal eating, while it does affect all of us rather indirectly, is not worth me trying to convince you.  You should be able to enjoy your steak, your fried chicken, and your double doubles because lord knows I did and I really, really want some now.

I just can't anymore.  Not in good conscience.  This question has been posed to me before, and again, I never really thought about it before, I just knew the answer.  "Would you eat your dog, or your cat?"  My answer has always been (for dogs) not in a million years; (for cats) maybe because I hate them.  I would never eat a pet.  And then I asked myself would I eat a pig.  The answer was yes.

What makes the pig different from the dog?  When I thought about it, I mean really thought about it, there was nothing.  (By the way - when I say really thought about it - what I mean is I did the whole annoying toddler thing/philosophy thing where you keep asking questions until you expose the ridiculousness of "reality," or what we've created as norms.)  We could live in a society that raised dogs purely for slaughter and have pigs as domesticated pets.  The point is, my parents made me a vegetarian - not Jonathan Safran Foer.

My parents taught me to love our dog and to treat it as a member of the family.  My dog is an animal.  A pig is an animal.  A cow is an animal.  A chicken is an animal.  A salmon is a fish, which is an animal.  I think.  Human beings are animals.  Why and how do we draw distinctions and place importance on one animal over another?  What rubric is used in this determination, and who made it?  Furthermore, what good does it really do us to create a hierarchy of animals to determine which are most edible (disposable) and which are not?  I believe in "the food chain," but I believe in it more as a "scientific observation/rationalization for animal eating."

Human beings, point blank, do not need to eat animals to survive in the world.  We simply don't.  (Protein comes from things other than animals.)  I would never in a million years eat my dogs Abbey, or Deacon, because I have the capacity for compassion for these animals - why can't I offer that same compassion to other animals, even if I've never met them?  I'm glad my parents taught me to love dogs, and by extension, all animals.  They gave me the compassion to do what I know is right for me to do.

Now, it's time for the distinctions.  Just because you eat animals does not mean that you lack compassion or that you're a prick.  Nor does it mean I have more compassion than you.  Believe me when I say I have no interest in judging the decisions of others.  As admitted earlier, it's my blog, and I share things that I feel are important.  If it changes your mind, I'm fairly sure it wasn't me or my words who actually did it, but I'm happy to take all the credit.  Ultimately, it's you.  It comes down to the life you want to lead, the choices you want to make, all of which we can assume are steps in your personal search for happiness.  And that's what I want you to be - happy.  I want everyone to be happy.  I want us all to sing happy songs and dance happily to happy music and be so happy we poop sparkly rainbows.  Scratch that - I want us all to be so happy that we never have to poop.  Unless pooping makes you happy.  Gross. Happy happy happy.  And whatever makes you happy - as long as you're not killing someone (a human being - kill animals if you want to, whatevs) - I'm happy, too.

On my own little personal journey (let's be real: it's The Wes Show), I've found that not eating animals makes me happier.  It just feels right, and it's a challenge.  At this point in my life, I accept challenges and I actually get very excited about them.  I even popped a hard-on just thinking about how I'm going to make dinner tonight without an animal on my plate!

That's the point.  Not the erection.  This is a journey.  And I haven't always been so willing to accept things that would challenge me or prove to be extremely difficult on my journey.  I was often more interested in not thinking, in just getting fun where I could find it.  To steal a line from my personal God, Madonna, "and now, I find I've changed my mind."  And on this journey towards my own form of happiness, I'm making steps in the right direction.